


helpful hands and tender words

by iamnotalizard



Series: bakoda fleet week 2020 [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 5+1 Things, AS A TREAT !, BakodaFleetWeek, Getting Together, Kinda, Love Languages, M/M, Pining, Understanding, mentions of canon death, mentions of canon injuries, prompt: love languages, trans Bato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotalizard/pseuds/iamnotalizard
Summary: 5 times bato and hakoda spoke their own love languages and the 1 time they spoke each other's
Relationships: Bato/Hakoda (Avatar)
Series: bakoda fleet week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934482
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137
Collections: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020





	helpful hands and tender words

**Author's Note:**

> bato's love language is acts of service, hakoda is physical touch, but also i have never actual read in depth about love languages soooo lmao

**-5**

Bato had always been praised for being a helpful child; always helping his mother chew on leather so that it could be sewn, always carrying rope to and fro his father’s ship when asked, would always offer to help his older sister braid her hair. Once everyone, including himself, realized he was a boy, his helpfulness was taken out to the sea and out to hunt, and he proved that he could assist in knot tying, in packing supplies and their spoils, and in flaying the different animals that they caught. And at the end of the day, he and his brother and father would return home, tired, slick and shivering with sweat and sea spray, and as his father and brother collapsed by the fire, he would go up to his mother and ask if she wanted him to help stir the boiling pot of stew so that she could rest before dinner. Bato would never be accused of being an overly expressive person, and many of his loved ones described him as guarded and private. But every time he offered to help his mother, she would smile, place her wind-chapped hand on his face, before leaning down and whispering, “I know when you offer that you’re saying you love me.”

Bato had always blushed and swatted his mother’s hand away, before grabbing the spoon and dutifully stirring. But sometimes, when he rolled out of bed, hours earlier than necessary, pulling on his boots and coat before sneaking out to meet Hakoda, Bato wondered if his mother was right. Maybe he was trying to say something when he stayed up late repairing fishing nets, before going out on a canoe with both of them trying to tamper down their excitement as they hunted an octopus in the light of the early morning. Perhaps when he stood behind an igloo, trying to make his voice as scary as possible, he was trying to say something besides vague, spirity threats, in the hopes of frightening Kanna. 

Maybe he was trying to say something every time he helped Hakoda play a prank on his family, every time he agreed to go out fishing with Hakoda instead of focusing on his own chores, every time that he stayed up late to help Hakoda study the ‘Chief Lessons’ that his dad had given him.

Bato heard his mother and father saying that they loved each other all his life, he heard his sister and her girlfriend whisper it to one another with pink cheeks, and his brother say it to more than a few girls and boys than their village really allowed. Bato could probably count on one hand how many times he had said those words himself, the words getting stuck in his throat in embarrassing ways. It seemed that Hakoda had no expressing it to others, always throwing affection around so casually, always so flippant with the words that seemed to choke Bato. 

Never towards him, of course, but what else did he expect? Bato could never say the words that he was certain he felt, but he could still show Hakoda, he thought. He could get up early to go fishing, and he could help him on hunts, and he could lie to their parents so that Hakoda wouldn’t get in as much trouble as he really ought to have. Bato would lighten the load that pressed down on Hakoda’s shoulders. And maybe one day, Hakoda would understand what it meant.

**-4**

Hakoda could never keep his hands to himself. He was forever reaching out to touch weapons, jewelry, animals and furs that everyone had to swat his hands away from. Every week he would come home, hands red and chapped, because he took off his mittens outside to handle something and got too distracted to put them back on. His mother would tut, before smoothing balm onto his tender, dry skin, berating him for being so childish _when he was almost a man!_ and for never learning to keep his gloves on and his hands to himself. 

It never seemed to stop him though. Every time Hakoda saw something pretty or saw something that made his heart quicken, he yearned to hold it, to pet it, to gently cradle it in his hands. It was such second nature to him, that he barely realized when he was slipping his mittens off to brush a loose strand of hair out of Bato’s face, as they were leaning over an ice fishing hole. 

Bato startled at the sudden touch but his expression returned to one of pleasant neutrality when Hakoda tucked the loose hair behind his ear, making sure not to jostle the newly implanted bone piercing that poked through the skin. 

“Thanks, Koda,” Bato said, before looking back at their unmoving fishing poles. Hakoda nodded and though he looked back at their poles as well, his eyes kept flickering back to Bato’s face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, and the plumpness of his lips. Hakoda left his hand out of his glove, and though the cold bit at his skin, he just held it in his lap, as he waited for the strands to fall out of their tucked hiding place again. 

As they sat there for the next few hours, catching just enough fish to consider the trip successful, Bato’s hair fell out of place a few more times, just infrequent enough that he couldn't be bothered to retie it. Each time Hakoda waited a few minutes, before casually reaching up to smooth it back. Bato’s hair was thick with just a slight wave to it. Hakoda couldn't tell whether the roughness he felt was from his own hand or from his friend’s salt-dry hair, but it felt comforting, grounding, and had a familiar coarseness that Hakoda found ever so pleasing - so similar, and yet so different than Kya’s smooth curls. 

It’s only when he gets home and his mom is berating him for removing his gloves again - without even a thank you for the fish! - that Hakoda realized that he was perfectly capable of touching Bato's hair back without removing his mittens, and questions why he didn’t just leave his gloves on.

He thinks he knows the answer, but he doesn’t much feel like dwelling on it.

**-3**

Sokka and Katara were a handful; a joyous, beautiful, and well-loved handful, but a handful none-the-less. Sokka’s was at the age where it seemed like he’s always awake, always trying to put things in his mouth, and is always full of energy (until he was tired, at which point he would simply flop to the ground, taking naps in the most inconvenient of places). Katara, on the other hand, had only just started her feeble attempts at crawling, to the absolute excitement of Sokka, and to the pride and fear of Kya and Hakoda. Often, though, after a few minutes of scrabbling around on the floor, unable to make any headway to her desired destination, she would pout and cry, pointing at where she wanted to be until someone helped her there. Kya and Hakoda often left their igloo with bags under their eyes and smiles on their faces, with Kya holding one of their children in the back of her amauti, and Hakoda hiding the other in the front of his parka, their tiny face barely visible through the neck hole.

Bato had never felt so much happiness as he did when he saw his friends lovingly hold their children, and when Hakoda and Kya first passed their swaddled up babies to him to hold, whispering in their children’s ears, “This is Bato, sweetheart, this is Bato, he’s going to take care of you.” Bato wasn't afraid to admit he did shed a tear. 

Surprisingly, the time he was able to spend with Hakoda barely decreased, as Bato started to offer his assistance in taking care of the kids and helping Kya and Kanna around the house. Some of the other men in the village looked at him with strange yet knowing glances, eyebrows raised, as Bato threw himself into helping another couple’s children instead of focusing on getting a husband and having children of his own. Bato knew that if he made himself available, if he stopped deflecting any conversation that led to the question of ‘ _Would you allow someone to court you’,_ if he stopped spending all the time that he didn’t have at Hakoda’s, then he probably would be able to find someone that wanted to date him, love him, who would want to try and have kids with him, biological or not. 

Bato knew this and still choose to tell Hakoda and Kya that he was able to watch Sokka and Katara for the night, so that they could get some rest, instead of going and drinking around a bonfire with men who looked at him with desperate eyes. 

He bathed and fed and rocked Katara - and then Sokka because he felt left out, even though he was getting a little too old for it - to sleep, tucking them underneath his warmest furs, before making sure that their clothes were clean for tomorrows wear. Both of them woke up multiple times in the night, and each time demanded Bato’s full attention until they drifted off to sleep. (Bato allowed himself to have a moment of selfishness, as he imagined a future where his own children could be sleeping next to Sokka and Katara, a child with his nose and height, with hair slightly lighter than his own and a sense of humour that-

Bato cut the thought off before it could go too far. It wasn't worth it to dwell on impossibilities like that, and while many men in the village could relate to Bato's angst of being the last of his family line - now that his older brother had passed in one of the recent raids - he knew that that wasn't the drive of these fantasies.)

  
  


The next day Bato emerged from his igloo with tired eyes and a soft smile as he passed Katara and Sokka back to a well-rested Hakoda and Kya. They laughed as Bato told him about his evening, and Kya gave him a side-hug in thanks. Hakoda reached up to place a mitten covered hand on Bato’s arm, gave it a squeeze, as he proceeded to tell Bato about their plans and duties for the day. Bato nodded along, waved vaguely at Kya as she led her children away, listening intently to Hakoda, until he finished speaking, at which point he removed his hand. Bato didn’t care if his feelings for Hakoda were never returned, or even noticed by the man. Seeing Hakoda smile without it turning into a yawn for the first time in weeks was reason enough to push past any feelings of sadness and help him, seeing Kya’s delighted reunion with her children - even if they were only separated for a few hours - was enough to solidify his feelings of friendship and respect for her. 

Bato knew that his reasons for his servitude for Hakoda were selfish; they were driven by his own hopes that by helping him cook just one more meal, helping him tie one more knot, helping him catch just one more fish would commune what he felt for him, with no illusions of reciprocity. It never did, but at some point, Bato stopped being disappointed and just started looking for the next opportunity, without any expectations.

**-2**

Hakoda always found a reason to touch Bato, now that they were off at war. Whether it was on the ship, with him placing an unnecessary hand on his back to steady him, or at a campfire, where he would squeeze next to Bato on a log that was much too short and bump knees with him, or when they shared a tent and Hakoda would pile all their belongings up to one side so that when he moved in the night, his hand would eventually find Bato’s chest, feel it rise and fall in steady motions. Sometimes when Hakoda would wake up before Bato, he would leave his hand there for a few more minutes, basking in the warmth of his friend’s body on the palm of his hand, the muscle underneath strong but relaxed, as he watched the slightly rounded outline of Bato’s chest move, shallower and faster until he was almost awake, before removing his hand. Hakoda knew it was irrational to be scared of Bato dying in the night, something much less likely than Bato dying in battle, or falling overboard or any other number of horrible ends that could befall on him. But seeing his companion sleeping, seeing the worry lines of his face smooth out, his hair flopping over his eyes, and body in such an open and calm position, made Hakoda smile, but also stressed him out. Sleep was when they were their most vulnerable, even with the multiple warriors keeping watch at all times, he couldn’t shake the worry. He knew that if the Fire Nation attacked during the night, if they managed to take out the guards, and if they managed to set the camp ablaze, there was little he could do, just waking up from sleep. But if something were to happen to Bato in the night - whether it was an ailment or nightmare - Hakoda would be able to feel it, would feel the shutter in his chest, or the rapid beating of his heart and he could do _something_ to ease Bato back into a pleasant slumber. 

Hakoda knew that Bato must have been aware of his tendency to reach for him during the night, as Bato often arose before Hakoda, but he never brought it up. Hakoda didn’t know whether to be relieved that he was saved from the embarrassment or disappointed at being robbed of the chance to speak about his reasoning. 

Hakoda was almost sure of what his reasoning was, after so many years of pondering. But Bato never asked, never pushed, never reached over to join hands with Hakoda, and though he always smiled and was pleasant in the face of Hakoda’s affection, he never initiated or returned it with such gusto. 

Hakoda allowed himself to have the few minutes of the morning, with his hand on Bato’s chest, his evenings pressed against his sides, and his days with steadying hands on his back. 

**-1**

The scars on Bato’s arm and torso limited his mobility. Though he could get the joints and skin to loosen up with the help of copious amounts of salve and massaging, they would soon tighten, leaving him slightly off-balanced as he tried to learn his new limits, and how to push them. 

It left him with objects being continuously being taken out of his hands, with people always trying to ferry him away from the hard manual labour needed to rebuild their village, and with people much shorter than him constantly stretching up to reach things for him that _he_ placed on the tallest shelf for a reason. It left him angry and huffy, annoyed at how his fellow tribe members saw him after his return from prison and war. It reminded him of being a child, before his growth spurt, before the village, outside of his family and Hakoda, took him seriously as a man, always smiling in a condensing way before plucking weapons out of his hand.

“I want to help,” Bato said to Hakoda, frustration clear in his voice. “There’s plenty I can do, even if my arm seizes up.”

“I know, Bato-”

“If you know, then you’ll let me do something.”

Hakoda met his glare with a raised eyebrow. After a few seconds, Bato huffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the slight pulling sensation it caused. Hakoda grinned as if he won something.

“I know you want to help, Bato, and I’m not trying to stop you from helping, but it’s clear that you’re trying to bite off more than you can chew.”

“How?”

“You tried to go seal-bass fishing yesterday, by yourself.”

“So?”

“Supposing you caught a fish, would you have been able to carry a hundred-pound fish, plus your gear, back?” Hakoda levelled his gaze. Bato huffed again, letting his arms drop from their crossed position.

“I just hate not being able to do anything.” Bato looked at his friend. “I hate not being able to help you.”

And that was as close to an outright confession as Bato could bring himself, with him and Hakoda growing, not necessarily closer, but more intimate. Despite Bato’s igloo being rebuilt, he still spent many nights at Hakoda’s, ate dinner around his table, and still found himself close to his side any chance he got. The freedom of being home had resulted in Bato growing more attached to Hakoda, instead of relishing in the distance that ships and tents and camps did not allow. 

Hakoda looked at him, and his smug look dropped slightly and was replaced with one of affectionate worry.

“There are ways to help me besides hurting yourself,” Hakoda chided, playfully. “You are not the only hunter in the village, Bato, others can catch fish for both of us. You can help me by taking care of yourself.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Bato replied. Hakoda sighed and beckoned Bato to come closer. He complied, lowering himself to where Hakoda sat at his kotatsu. Hakoda pulled him so that his face was pressed against Hakoda’s strong shoulders. Bato sighed into the warm skin of Hakoda's neck.

“Fine, if you want to do something besides take some time off - which some people would kill for, by the way - you can help me read over all these trade proposals.”

Bato pulled himself away from Hakoda, looked at him for a moment, searching for any condensation or pity, before nodding and situating himself at the table, adjacent to Hakoda. He felt Hakoda bump his knee with his own.

“Get a load of this proposal,” Hakoda said after a few minutes of silence, shoving a scroll under Bato’s nose. “Aren’t all these taxes _tariff-_ ful!” Hakoda barked at a laugh at his own joke. Bato groaned. “You know it would help me if you laughed at my jokes.”

“Maybe I don’t want to help you that much after all.”

**+1**

In the months since Bato and Hakoda began their official 'courtship', more tentative and slow than anyone expected of them, considering their long friendship and history, they found that while they were often on the same page about nearly everything, they had a more difficult time in expressing their newly actualized romantic feelings for each other.

While Hakoda was prepared to hold Bato in public, wrap his arms around Bato’s slim waist, to pull him down for kisses and caresses, Bato was more reserved in public, happy and most comfortable when they limited their affection to simple handholding and the occasional cheek kisses. Even bunny kisses reduced the taller man to a blushing mess, often shoving Hakoda away forcefully in his flustering.

They never seemed to need long conversations about most aspects of their lives - be it work, dinner, whose house they were going to move into (Bato had pretty much already moved in with Hakoda and his children) - yet they both still found themselves stuttering over the words that they both knew they felt for each other. Privately, Hakoda felt that he had a decent excuse - he hadn’t had a relationship or had said those words in a romantic setting since Kya. 

Privately, Bato thought his excuse was better since he hadn’t said the words in a romantic sense at all, since he was always saving them for Hakoda. 

So, they fumbled their way out of conversations were those words would crop up, though they tried desperately to make the other understand anyways.

It was a summer morning, the sun had already been out for days, when Hakoda found Bato sitting cross-legged, fumbling in front of a mirror on the floor, his right hand tangled in his hair and making noises of frustration.

“What’s up?” He asked, watching at Bato turned slightly, his hair not yet tied up and slightly knotted from his fight with it. Bato held up a thin leather cord.

“I can’t tie my hair up,” He said simply, not bothering to mention why. Hakoda already knew that his arm had been stiff lately, the slight increase in sun exposure making the skin tender and making him avoid massaging his joints.

“Want some help?”

“It’s fine, Koda, I’ll figure it-” 

“Let me help.” Hakoda interrupted, already walking towards him. Bato fell silent as he looked up at his partner, turning to face the mirror and watch him through that when Hakoda sank to his knees behind him. “I want to help you.”

“Okay.” Bato’s voice came out soft and gentle, as he held up the hair tie. Hakoda took it and placed it on the floor, reaching over to grab a comb instead. 

Hakoda raked it through Bato’s thick hair, revelling in the feeling of the strands passing under his fingers as he smoothed over them after each stroke. He worked carefully, undoing the knots that Bato’s previous attempts caused, and admiring the streaks of grey that were scattered throughout the otherwise dark mass. 

He looked in the mirror and saw that Bato had closed his eyes and that his cheeks had taken on a slight flush. As he ceased his movements to admire his partner, Bato opened his eyes again and made contact with Hakoda’s through the glass. They stared at each other for a few moments, and slowly Bato reached towards Hakoda’s free hand and held it. He gave it a tentative squeeze and Hakoda smiled. 

Bato smiled back, letting go and closing his eyes again. Hakoda resumed combing until Bato’s hair was a silky curtain. Instead of just tying it back, as Bato often did as of late, he began to braid a few strands together, holding the finished pieces between his pinky and ring finger, before gathering the rest of the hair needed to complete Bato’s wolf tail. When he was done, he ran his hands over his work, making sure everything laid flat and that it wasn’t too tight, and to relish in the feeling of intimacy that the two had garnered. 

Bato reached to grab Hakoda’s wrist, pulling him down so that Hakoda was giving the man a loose back hug. Hakoda buried his face in the crook of Bato’s neck, feeling him lace his fingers with Hakoda's, lifting one hand up to place a soft kiss on the rough knuckles. 

He looked up into the mirror again, smiling when he caught Bato’s eye, and both of them knew what the other was trying to say.

**Author's Note:**

> bato is trans and 100% hasn't had top surgery if for no other reason bc by the time he's grown up enough to consider it there's no more healers in the village but also because uhhh, i said so?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [klainelynch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch) Log in to view. 




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